


Dusted

by all_hail_the_witcher



Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alcohol, Angels, Deception, Evil Angels, Head Injury, M/M, Panic Attacks, Sort Of, Violence, alberts red hair, also posted on tumblr (hi how are ya), based off of several fall out boy songs, being unknowingly drugged, but theyre evil, concussion, hurt comfort, idk its definitely nothing in This universe, it wasn't supposed to be this long, kinda ?, loss of mother, post apocalyptic, race is also very traumatized, race is scared of angels, sorry - Freeform, um its long, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:53:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23521120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/all_hail_the_witcher/pseuds/all_hail_the_witcher
Summary: Race lives in a world that has been taken taken over by a society of evil angels. Every few years there are Ceremony where a group of angels "comes of age" by killing a human in the most vicious way possible. Race lost his mom to a Ceremony fifteen years ago and has been terrified that he will meet the same fate ever since. Albert says that he will protect him, but even Race has his doubts.
Relationships: Albert DaSilva/Racetrack Higgins
Comments: 5
Kudos: 19





	Dusted

The sky was burning again. 

Flames licked across the barren skyline as the colors of the sunset deepened from blue to purple to pink and back again. The wind blew welcomingly through the thick air, scattering the few leaves mixed in with the trash that was littering the streets. Smoke billowed from the tops of a few buildings, making the wind smell sour and causing ash to settle in the nooks and crevices of the city. Every now and then an old car would rattle down an unpaved street, the sound echoing off of the broken windows. Children screamed in the streets, but whether it was screams of terror or delight though was unclear. After a while all the screams sounded the same. 

Race supposed that it should be a horrifying spectacle to look out at every night, but he found it beautiful in a grotesquely familiar sort of way. This was the world that he had grown up in, and this view was the last thing that he could find comfort and solace in. Well, the only thing except-

_ Thud. _

The broken glass on the roof jumped, pattering back into place like a cacophony of thudding rain as a door flew open. And amidst it all a man stood, crouched low, his long burt-flame colored hair obscuring his face, right arm extended behind him and the left resting just above a particularly large pile of glass. He flicked up his head and winked at Race, who in turn rolled his eyes. Albert had always been one for dramatic entrances. 

Race smiled involuntarily and reached out his hand, a silent sign that Albert should come sit by him. Part of him couldn’t believe that his boyfriend had actually come, given his lack of availability the last few weeks. He was so enthralled by the way that the sunlight brought out the gold in Albert’s red hair that he didn't see the brief grim look cross his face as he looked past him towards something in the distance. 

“You look beautiful tonight.”

Albert’s head snapped to look at him, eyes narrowing for half a second. The air around his head flashed gold for a second, so quickly that Race was certain that he imagined it.

“As do you,” Albert smiled, gently kissing Race’s forehead before shifting his gaze to look at the burning skyline, taking in the horridly beautiful spectacle that was laid out before the two of them. 

Something caught Race’s eye on the top of one of the close buildings. He watched silently as two silhouettes crouched, unfurled their wings, and took off into the darkening sky, their outlines gliding gracefully like oversized birds as they circled the area above the streets, making sure that everything was in terrible working order. Race closed his eyes, unable to watch what was certain to happen next. 

Almost immediately Race was being pulled into a welcoming embrace, soft hums masking what he was sure were sounds of suffering coming from the street below. Race clung back thankfully, trying desperately to focus on anything but the angels, anything but angels, anything but-

“ _ Antonio!” _

_ Race looked back over his shoulder to see his mom trying to push towards him, but the tightly knit wall of angels blocked her path, closing in on her and her alone as she continued to scream. Suddenly the street was coated in ash, ash everywhere, in his hair, on his bare feet, coating his eyes. The ash was probably the reason he didn’t see the hand reach out from the doorway behind him and yank him out of the street. His head was shoved against a scrawny shoulder, away from the street, but he fought and shoved himself away to look back at his mom. _

_ Instead of his mom though, all he saw was a piercing flash of light before he was pushed down again, inhaling a pile of ash. _

_ “I said stay down,” a voice hissed, keeping one hand firmly planted on Race’s shoulders so he wouldn’t get away.  _

_ Race let out a fit of coughs in response, choking on the ash and the realization of what had become of his mother. How could they, how could they, how could they- _

“They’re supposed to protect us,” Race’s voice shook as Albert ran his hands through his hair calmingly, just like he had on that ash covered street all those years ago. “They’re supposed to protect us and all they do is kill us.”

“I know,” Albert whispered. “But you've got me right? And I will never  _ ever  _ let them hurt you.”

Race pushed himself further into Albert’s chest. “But what if you can’t stop them?” He knew that the Ceremonies were coming up, the time of year when a new group of angels would come of age by pledging their loyalty to the cause. That was, killing a human in the most painful way they could possibly imagine. Only the top ten killers would get to come of age, all the others would be cast down by bouts of heavenly fire, stripping away their immortality and turning them to unworthy servants, unable to enjoy the so-called “pleasures” of life as an angel. His mother always insisted that there was an old myth that if you yelled out the angel’s weakness just before you were executed the angel would be destined to suffer for eternity. But angels didn't have weaknesses, if they did his mother would still be alive. Angels weren’t  _ allowed  _ to have weaknesses. That was the law. That was the law and they were all stuck in this nightmare land because of it. The whole thing made Race feel sick. 

“I’m not going to let them hurt you.”

Race pulled back to look up at Albert, his face half obscured by shadows but still comforting nonetheless. He leaned in close, murmuring his thanks against Albert’s mouth. He knew that Albert said he would make sure Race was safe because he worked for an underground group that was plotting against the Ceremonies, but even Race had his doubts sometimes. His mother’s death would always haunt him.

Albert pulled away, reaching into his pocket for his ornate glass bottle of pinkish tinted liquid. Alcohol was hard to come by these days, and Race would take whatever he could get. 

“Would this ease your thoughts?” Albert handed him the bottle and Race unscrewed it hastily, taking a few large gulps. Anything to lessen the pain of his mother. 

He felt the familiar burning sensation as the alcohol traveled down his throat and settled into his stomach, making him wince in welcome pain. He took another swig, noting how this particular bottle burnt more than the usual batches did - not that he was complaining- before passing it back.

“It’s stronger this time,” he observed as Albert swilled the liquid in the bottle, bits of silver and gold flecks that he hadn’t noticed before catching the dimming light and sending sparkles across the sea of dirt and glass blanketing their rooftop.

“Nah,” Albert laughed, shaking his head defiantly after taking a generous sip. “You’re just turning into a wimp.”

“Rude!” Race grabbed the bottle from Albert’s delicate grip and chugged half of it. He was  _ not _ a wimp. He had a higher alcohol tolerance than Albert! How dare he-

“Hey!  _ Hey! _ ” 

Suddenly the bottle was being pulled away from Race’s lips and out of his hands.

“That stuff’s expensive!” Albert protested, screwing the lid back on the, now half empty, bottle, and placing it back in the pocket of his jacket. “I don’t need you draining my supply just to prove a point.”

Race blinked hard, trying to blink away the haze coating his eyes.That weird shimmery stuff was definitely stronger than he had thought. “So I did?” 

“Did what balimah?” Albert turned his concerned eyes to look at Race. 

“Proved that I’m not a- wait,” Race narrowed his eyes and cocked his head, peering at Albert confusedly. “What did you call me?”

Now it was Albert’s turn to look confused. “Baby?”

“No, no that’s not what you said.” Race squeezed his eyes shut, blocking out the world that had somehow become too bright and was that...shiny? His city was a lot of things, but it wasn’t shiny, the buildings shouldn't reflect the sunlight like that, and they were supposed to be gray and black not orange and pink. And what had Albert called him? That wasn’t right either, not at all, not right like the pink and orange shiny buildings, it was not right, not right, not right not-

“Racer?”

Race felt a gentle hand on his shoulder trying to pull him out of the frenzy that he had worked himself into. He tried to open his eyes, but all he could see were the candy colored buildings still, except now there were flying people, what were their names, the flying people, the flying people with their weird harsh language and crazy purple eyes and thick wings made out of reddish orange feathers and gold, pure spun gold so bright it might as well have been made out of sunlight, they were- they were the flying people the, the, flying people, fuckin, not people, not people at all- horrible people, horrible people with crazy purple eyes and horrible lives that made other people’s lives worse, so not people at all, not people, not flying people- terrible people who fly, fly, fly, fly, flying horrible people who killed, killer flying people, no not people, not people who flew and killed people- killing people, killing people, killing flying people with wings made out of gold and crazy pueple eyes, special gold flying not people who killed, killed, killed, killed not flying people cause they weren’t special, like him he wasn’t special- could be killed by the flying not people who flew with wings made out of feathers and flew, flew, flew and killed and-

“ANGELS!”

Race’s eyes flew open and all he saw was gray. Gray everywhere: gray buildings, gray rooftop, gray streets. No pink and orange candy colored buildings, nothing shiny to be seen. He wasn’t sure if he should be relieved or scared.

A very welcome bit of rust-colored hair made its way into his gray landscape. A silent understanding passed between the two of them and Albert pulled Race into his chest. Race looked up at his boyfriend’s hair for what felt like hours, eyes traveling along every stray strand that had been blown out of place by the wind. His reddish hair was dulled, as it usually was, by the ash that seemed to coat the city, but no amount of ash could ever completely mask the glorious color that was Albert’s hair. It stood out wonderfully against the dark sky - the sun having apparently disappeared below the horizon - and glinted in the few lights that were still working on the rooftop. It looked so unreal and celestial in the low lights, almost as if it were glowing, that Race couldn’t help but reach out to touch it, almost as if he needed to make sure that Albert was real and he was not still trapped in that shiny candy world.

He sighed deeply when his hands felt the soft strands. Albert was real. This was not a dream. Still, Race felt the need to calm himself by playing with his boyfriend’s hair, twisting the fiery strands around his fingers, stroking it with the back of his hand, and generally just messing it up in ways that, had this been any normal situation, Albert would have complained about relentlessly. 

Heart no longer beating out of his chest, Race pulled himself closer to Albert, freeing his hand from his hair and instead burying his face in his shoulder. Albert wrapped both of his arms around him tightly, protecting him, as he said he would, from the threats of the world around them.

“Hey,” Albert whispered concernedly, pulling back slightly to look down at his boyfriend. 

“Hey,” Race whispered back, although, much to his surprise and alarm, he sounded tired and almost sad.

Albert tightened his arms around Race again. “Are you alright?”

Race sighed, concentrating on the scent of Albert’s shirt: ash and smoke and wood and...was that roses? “I’m fine,” he laughed slightly, pulling away from Albert to look at him. “I’m not really sure what happened.”

“That's okay,” Albert gave him a small smile and squeezed his arm. “You know that I’m here for you though, right? If it happens again?”

“Yeah.” Race looked down at the roof, tracing his finger in one of the piles of ash. “Thank you.”

Albert didn’t say anything, just watched as Race drew little designs in the ash pile next to him. The designs had grown quite intricate before he spoke up.

“Wanna get out of here?”

Race nodded, still overly interested in the ash pile next to him, but he pulled himself up off the roof.

The next second he was on the ground, staring up at the deep blue sky, sparkles - what the hell, why were there sparkles? - raining softly down on him. Dazed, he looked down, only mildly alarmed to see that his hand was tinged blue and that there were three of them.

“Racer!” 

A hand came to rest on top of his own which Race distantly identified as Albert’s. He noticed belatedly that Albert’s hand was tinged pink around the edges and admired how it mixed nicely with the blue radiating from his own hand.

“What happened baby?” 

“I, uh,” Race was having trouble formulating words, hopefully due to the ash he had breathed in when he fell. “I slipped on the ash,” he spoke slowly, carefully enunciating each of his words. Something deep inside him knew that it hadn’t been the ash that had made him fall, but he didn’t want Albert to think any less of him.

Albert nodded. “That’s okay,” he said, beginning to try to help Race up.

Race zoned out halfway through, intently focused on the building to the left of them: it was missing the glass from several of the windows, but the glass that was left seemed to be glowing with a golden light, despite the fact that there were no working lights inside. Inside, there were several silhouettes walking around, seemingly watching them. One of them unfurled a set of wings and poised himself to take off from one of the glass-less windows. Race felt his stomach flip over and suddenly his vision was awash with shade upon shade of neon color.

“Albie,” he muttered softly, pointing shakily to the neighboring building. Man, he must have hit his head or something.

“I see them, don’t worry.” Albert shifted, watching the angel in the other building prepare to take off. His entire being was glowing gold, like a second sun. Then he launched himself off of the building into the night sky, taking his feathered wings and burning halo along with him.

“Albert.” Race’s voice rattled in his throat worse than broken glass in a rainstorm. “He’s gonna come get me, he’s gonna, Albie, he’s gonna, he….” Race trailed off as the angel continued to approach them, showering pink and orange sparks in his wake. He was so close now that Race could see his facial features: long brown hair whipping out behind him in the electric-blue tinged wind, slightly crooked nose and bright purple eyes that sent shivers running involuntarily down his spine.

“Racer do you trust me?”

Race said nothing, instead choosing to watch the angel advance across the now somehow forest green sky. 

“Racer.” 

Race whipped his head up to look at his boyfriend. There was something off with his appearance but he couldn’t place what it was. “Yeah?”

“Do you trust me?”

“Yeah.” Race glanced to the side, the angel was almost at their rooftop now. He opened his mouth to warn Albert, but Albert seemed to have other ideas.

“Hang on balimah,” Albert warned before he scooped up Race in his arms and hugged him close to chest, taking off at top speed towards the edge of the roof. Race hardly had time to scream before they were in the air. But they weren’t falling, no, that Race was sure of. 

They were gliding. 

For one long, horrible minute, Race actually enjoyed it. The city below him transformed into a shiny, candy-colored wonderland. No longer were there screaming children in the streets, they were running around laughing and playing, a sight that was so...normal that it almost made him sick. Instead of getting a facefull of ash, there was a cool breeze filtering sunlight onto his face that warmed his soul and numbed the pain in his thigh. There were no abandoned buildings with smashed out windows, every one was decorated and painted in immaculate fashion with precise illustrations of flowers and rainbows and clouds and lollipops. Plants and trees with actual flowers and leaves sprouted up from the ground to meet them and he reached out his hand to touch one. He had never touched a leaf before and it felt warm and precious. He never wanted to let go of it. The sweet scent of the flowers wound through the streets, around the buildings, tickling his nose pleasantly. He had never smelled something that was so delicate and beautiful before. It was different and scary and wonderful all at the same time. He couldn’t tear his eyes from the spectacle laid out below him.

But then he looked up at Albert, wanting to see if he was having the same reaction. 

Albert, his beautiful and wonderful boyfriend, was also changed by the new city sitting below them, or maybe Albert had changed the city, to say which had caused which was impossible and the thought of it made Race’s head spin. It seemed that his boyfriend was flying the two of them over the city, his reddish gold copper wings matching his hair perfectly, ruffling gently in the warm air. Over his head floated a halo, gold and flaming. 

It was then that Race realized what had been different about Albert’s appearance back on the roof - his eyes were electric purple instead of hazel.

Race’s stomach dropped a thousand feet from under him and he tried to scream out for help, but all he was met with was a wall of seemingly endless darkness. 

However, upon closer inspection, Race realized that the darkness was not completely dark. Everywhere he looked there was a set of purple eyes staring back at him, constantly watching, haunting his movements even when he wasn’t moving. He tried to flick his eyes back and forth and back and forth, hoping that he could outsmart the purple eyes, but everywhere he looked there they were again, and again, and again, and again and-

Race’s eyes flew open, still trying to escape the watchful purple eyes. 

He was so startled by the light, albeit dim, in the room - where was he? - that he screamed, shutting his eyes again in terror, afraid that he had unlocked another hallway of the horrible purple eyed nightmare.

He blinked his eyes once, twice, three times, shook his head back and forth violently - as if that would do something to remedy the situation - and opened his eyes once again.

He looked around once again, this time his cloudy eyes taking in any and all of the details that he could: the red and blue rag rug in the corner under the window, the yellow couch which was somehow too yellow for being as weathered as it was, the peeling green wallpaper that was speckled with dots of what appeared to be mold but could have very well also been his own vertigo, the broken glass chimes in the far corner that were tinkling gently despite the absence of wind, the faded green chair he was sitting in that smelled vaguely like mothballs, the torn blue blanket that was wrapped around him tightly, the slightly uneven dark wood table sitting across from him, and the ornate glass bottle sitting on it, empty save for a few residual sips of pink liquid.

A gnawing sensation began in the back of his head. He should know this place. Why should he know this place?

Slowly he pushed himself up off of the arm of the chair, only to fall back down. Distantly he felt the dull throb of pain eminating from somewhere in his leg...or was it his stomach? He didn’t know and for some reason it didn’t bother him. The springs in the cushion of the chair were broken, digging into his legs, but he was sunk so low into it already….and the rough fabric was cushioning his head…..just….right…...and……

“Racer?” 

That was his name, right? 

“Racer, it’s just me, don’t hide from me please. I won’t hurt you.” 

Something told him that this voice was real, not one of the many layers of his multifaceted, neon nightmare. But even the voice had a sweet, unfamiliar quality to it. People’s voices weren’t meant to taste like sugar and he had learned his lesson. He hadn’t heard a sugary voice like that since the day his mother had died.

“C’mon Racer. I heard a bang from in here and I thought you were awake. I really want, no, I need you to be awake. You were acting weird and I think you have a concussion and I tried my best to fix you but I don’t know if I did cause this damn city is in shambles and I couldn’t take you anywhere. I gave you alcohol to try and help with the pain but that’s all I had and it probably wasn’t a smart idea but-.” The voice trembled, every word becoming slowly less sweet than the one before it. He found himself almost feeling bad for whoever it was, but he couldn’t open his eyes. This could still be his nightmare and he was...scared. Was that the right word? 

“I know you might be confused,” the voice continued. “But it’s just me here. Please Racer, it’s just Albert.”

“Albie?” Why did he know that name? Why were his eyes...oh  _ oh _ .

Race felt the last of his irrational fear slip away as his eyes opened and he took in the welcome sight before him. Albert’s copper hair stuck out from his head in random clumps, but the sunlight still caught the gold strands, lighting up his concerned features with its ethereal glow. It may have been his still-foggy memory, but Race couldn’t recall the last time he had seen Albert’s eyes so filled with emotion: concern, relief, happiness, love….those eyes only existed for him. The nightmare he had just woken up from was inconsequential the minute he looked into Albert’s eyes.

“Yes Racer,” Albert whispered. “I’m here.”

Race reached up, brushing his fingers jerkily against Albert’s face. “Is it really you?”

“Yes, it’s me,” Albert placed his own hand on top of Race’s. “I’m not-” He swallowed thickly, a few tears escaping from his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Race pulled his hand away, suspicious. His Albert never got this emotional, and he _ certainly  _ never cried. Unless this wasn’t his Albert...wait a second-

“ _ Angels! _ ” Race shouted, causing Albert to flinch away from him. “We were on a rooftop,  _ our  _ rooftop, and there were angels and...and…” He furrowed his brows in intense concentration, hoping it would cause his fuzzy memories to come back into focus. “We flew! You jumped off the roof and we flew and they were chasing us and-”

“Racer, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Albert interrupted. “Yes, we were sitting on the rooftop. There were some angels off in the distance and you got nervous so I broke out my tequila and we drank it and watched the sun set. Then you slipped on some ash and hit your head and I brought you back here.”

Race squinted down at his hands, about to protest how blatantly false that statement was when suddenly there was a cool cloth being pressed against the side of his now-pounding head. 

“That was two nights ago.” Albert pressed the cloth a little bit more firmly into his head and he flinched a little. “I was starting to think that you weren’t going to wake up.”   
  
“But that’s not- that's not possible.” Race studied the ash clinging to his clothes in disbelief. It couldn’t have been more than a few hours ago, could it have? But the sun  _ was  _ coming through the window, so maybe it was just the following morning and Albert had lied to him? No, that wasn’t possible, Albert wouldn’t lie to him. But then, he was pretty certain that Albert had flown… “I couldn’t possibly have...it just doesn’t make sense…”

“I don’t know Racer.” Albert put his other hand on top of Race’s. “Hitting your head knocked you clean out. Almost like a coma I guess.”

“But I have memories from after I fell.” Race tried again to concentrate on making the fuzziness go away. “You were talking to me, and the angels started to come after us, and you jumped off the building and flew, almost like-” He stopped, unable to complete the sentence aloud.  _ Almost like you were an angel yourself. _

He quickly shifted his head to the side, looking up at Albert. How could he be an angel? Especially after he knew what had become of his mother? There was no way, it didn’t make sense, it just didn’t-

“Racer, honey, could you look at me?”

He found himself nodding as Albert’s face slowly came into focus. Tears threatened to spill over his lashes and Race found himself wanting to reach up and wipe them away. 

“I don’t know what to tell you about what you saw. It must have been some kind of dream, cause you were knocked out. The alcohol probably didn’t help much either. But I can assure you that I didn’t fly, and there weren’t any angels chasing us. I was talking to you the whole time about how you were safe and I was getting you back to my place as fast as possible, so maybe your brain misconstrued that into whatever you saw? I don’t know…” 

A fat tear dropped down onto Race’s cheek. Followed by another. And another. Was Albert...crying? Over him?

“All I know is that I would never hurt you. I couldn’t imagine it. Oh my god, I would never be able to forgive myself. You’re all I have and there’s no way I would ever be able to live with myself if I betrayed you like that. I could never be with you knowing that I was something that you are so afraid of, it would be unfair and- cruel. Straight up cruel and- and I’m not  _ that _ , I’m not one of those monsters who took your mom, I swear. I wish I could take away what you saw because it sounds awful but there’s no way I would ever even dream of doing that to the only person I still have left- I wouldn’t- I-”

“Albie hey,” Race reached his achy arms up around Albert’s neck, pulling his head onto his chest. “It’s okay. You’re right, I don’t know what I saw, but that person wasn’t you. They could never be you because you would never hurt me.”

“It just sounds so awful, I’m sorry you even had to dream it,” Albert whispered. 

Suddenly there was wind ruffling through Race’s hair and winger in golden feathered wings in his peripheral vision. “Yeah.” He shook off the memory, grimacing. “Can we not talk about it anymore? Is that okay?”

“Of course.” Albert lifted his head to look at Race. “Is there anything I can do to make it better?”

“Hmmmmmm….” Despite his headache Race wiggled his eyebrows.

“Oh I do  _ not _ like that face.”   
  
“Youcouldmakemepudding?” 

Albert’s shoulders sagged defeatedly. “I don’t think I have everything-”

Race’s lips began to quiver.

“-but I’ll do my best!” Albert got up, reaching down a hand for Race, who hesitated a second before taking it. Race swore he saw a glimmer of panicked anger flash across his face, but he decided to blame it on his still present haziness.

Unless Albert  _ was _ actually angry at him? But that didn’t make sense. Albert didn’t get angry at him. Besides, if Albert was angry at him, why would he be letting him lean on his shoulder as they walked into the kitchen right now? If he were angry he would leave Race to fend for himself, he probably wouldn’t have even brought him back here at all, much less taken care of him. 

He watched Albert carefully as he helped him onto the dusty counter. Aside from Albert being extra busy with the underground group the last few weeks, everything had been normal. 

_ Unless he’s an angel _ , the dark corner of his brain whispered. 

_ Not possible _ . He watched Albert rummage around in his mostly empty cupboard for scraps of ingredients. If he were an angel why would he be here, making him pudding, sacrificing his limited food, for him? Why would he have sat with him for almost two days, fretting over the fact that he might not wake up? Why would he have offered him such a strong support system after his mom had been murdered by those- those monsters? No, Albert loved him, he was sure of it.

_ But angels are manipulative _ .

_ He’s not though, _ Race fired back. Albert had never been anything but loving toward him. That was something that you just couldn’t fake. 

_ But- _

“ _ No!”  _

“You alright babe?” 

Race looked up and Albert was standing in front of him, holding a chipped bowl of pudding. When had he finished making that? God,  _ fuck _ head injuries. 

“Y-yeah,” Race stammered. “Just thinking.” He took the pudding from Albert. It wasn’t real pudding, just mostly water with a little bit of melted chocolate and sugar. It was watery and thin, but Race loved it because his mom had made it for him on special occasions. 

Albert put his hand gently on Race’s thigh, rubbing gently circles with his thumb for a few moments before speaking. “It wasn’t real Racer, you know that right?”

“I know.” Race put his bowl on the counter next to him, covering Albert’s hand with his. “It just makes me think of my mom.” The whole ordeal made him want to curl up next to her and cry.

Albert’s forehead creased as he looked up, meeting Race’s eyes. “Why don’t we go visit the memorial tomorrow? Would you like that?” 

_ The memorial.  _ After every year of Ceremonies, a group of rebels would make a small, nondescript memorial for everyone who had been murdered by the angels that year. The one for his mom’s year was a tree stump with a heart carved into it, surrounded by grass. It was the closest thing that he had to a grave for her. There was only one issue though. “I would, but is it safe for us to? Aren’t the Ceremonies starting soon?”

“Sometime in the next few days, I think,” Albert said quietly. “I know it’s probably not wise to go while you’re still injured but I don't think that you want to wait until after the Ceremonies. And I’ll protect you. I’ll always protect you.”

_ See? That’s real. _

Race finally allowed himself to smile. “Okay. As long as you promise we’ll be careful.”

Albert leaned, ghosting his lips across Race’s. “I promise.”

Race held that promise close to him, a small reminder that Albert was still the same person he’d known for half his life. A few minutes of a dream could not break down all the trust they had spent years forging. Race repeated this to himself over and over and over again, so much so that by the time the two of them left Albert’s ramshackle apartment the following day there was not a speck of doubt in his mind that Albert was anyone but Albert.

“Racer, you shouldn’t be walking so quickly. You’re still injured, remember? I don’t want you to trip and fall again.”

Race stuck his tongue out over his shoulder, although he did slow his pace a fraction. “But we’re almost there!” he protested once Albert caught up to him. “And I don’t want to be out here more than I have to.”

“Point taken.” Albert’s shoulder brushed against his. “But why rush when we could take our time? Enjoy being outside?”   
  
Race snorted as he took in the broken windows, rusted cars, piles of trash and thick layer of dust coating the street. “What’s there to enjoy?”

“Well, you for starters-”

“You can enjoy me when we’re  _ not _ at risk of being killed.”

“So, never then?” 

“Albert!” Race groaned. “If you can’t give me one honest thing that is good about being outside I’ll make you sleep on the roof tonight.”

“I mean…” Albert could hardly contain his grin as he scanned the area. “That pile of ash over there is pretty nice.”

“That’s it,” Race folded his arms, stopping directly in Albert’s tracks. “You’re sleeping on the roof tonight. 

“But-!” Albert stepped up, his nose barely reaching Race’s chin as he pouted.

“No buts,” The corners of Race’s mouth turned up and he looked around quickly before pressing a quick kiss to Albert’s forehead. 

“Why are you being so flirtatious today?” Albert whispered, twirling his fingers almost wistfully in Race’s hair. 

“It’s more fun that way.” He turned away teasingly just as Albert was about to kiss him. 

“Hey!” Footsteps clattered across the broken pavement. “Why’d you leave me hanging like that?”

“They’ll be plenty of time for that later.” Race didn’t have the heart to tell him that the sun reflecting off the broken glass was hurting his head. “C’mon we’re almost there.”

The footsteps behind him stopped suddenly. When he turned around he saw Albert shifting his weight back and forth uncomfortably. Dirt and ash caked his shoes and the hems of his pants. His walking had stirred up a dust cloud that made it look like he was floating. Amidst the glinting scrap metal he looked almost god-like: someone too perfect for this dump of a city. 

“What is it Albie?”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Race must have looked confused because he rushed to explain. “It’s just that, well, I know the Ceremonies are coming up, and you’re still injured, and I don’t know if this is the best idea?”

“What’re you talking about, this was  _ your _ idea.” He grabbed Albert’s arm and tugged him towards the burned out park that housed the memorial. “C’mon I wanna talk to my mom.” 

“Okay.”

Race began stomping through the charred sticks, careful not to breathe in too heavily. The park was bleak and barren, but it was easily one of his favorite spots in the city. “What’s got you so careful all of a sudden?”

“I just want to protect you,” Albert was barely audible over the sound of snapping sticks.

“And you’re doing a great job.” 

Race was too distracted looking for the hidden memorial to listen for Albert’s response. 

“There it is,” he muttered to himself catching sight of the flash of green grass, kneeling down to brush away the branches and dead leaves that covered it. “Can I have a minute?” he asked, not even bothering to look at Albert.

“Of course.”

There was a brief hesitation, but Race waited until the crunches of Albert’s footsteps became distant before addressing his mom. 

“Hey mom,” he whispered, tracing the rings of the stump lightly. “I’m sorry it’s been so long since I’ve come to visit. Albert’s been busy with the rebels and I didn’t wanna come by myself. Believe it or not it's become less safe here since you left.” There was a distant bang in the background, echoing his statement, and he chuckled softly. “See? I told-”

Before he could finish his sentence a blast of what could only be described as a stream of white fire cut though the charred remains of the trees, vaporizing the memorial and narrowly missing his torn jeans.  _ Heavenly fire. _

“ _ Fuck _ .” Vision spotty he stumbled to his feet, crashing in what he hoped was the direction Albert had left. Albert. He had to find Albert, Albert would protect him and they would get back safely. 

“Albie-AAAHH!” He jumped sideways as another blast of fire cut through the remains of the park, this one close enough that he felt the heat of it radiate through his arm. “Albie!” As long as he could focus on finding Albert, maybe he could forget the fact that he was having fire blasted at him by-

A bright golden flash rained down all around him, the heat radiating off of it scorching his already tattered shirt. Blindly, he threw himself down on the ground, shutting his eyes and focusing only on the coolness of the dirt.  _ Fuckin angels.  _

“Albie where are you?!” he screamed into the dirt, willing this to be another weird dream and that any second he would wake up safe in Albert’s apartment.

“ANTONIO HIGGINS.”

_ Oh no. _

Race lifted his head off of the ground instantly, his worst fears confirmed. Something about the mysterious booming voice commandeered attention. Despite this, he still managed to sound sheepish as he looked upwards, unable to see anything but black dots swirling across his vision. This was a Ceremony. Oh my  _ god,  _ this was a Ceremony. Did that mean…. “Yes?” 

“STAND.”

Race dragged himself off the ground shakily.  _ Albie I really need you, where are you? _

“CONGRATULATIONS. YOU HAVE BEEN CHOSEN.”

Oh no,  _ oh no _ , he knew that phrase. He had woken up countless times to the ringing of it in his ears, tears streaming down his face as his mother was whisked away from him by a cloud of gold fiery glitter. But this time he didn’t wake up and there was no Albert next to him to-

“Racetrack.”

“ _ Albie? _ ” He ran blindly towards his boyfriend’s voice, towards safety and happiness and love and-

As if by magic his vision suddenly cleared and he stopped in his tracks. But it wasn't the ranks of angels poised across the sky in front of him, nor the gold altar, nor the torches that made him stop in his tracks. 

There, standing alone in front of the altar, thousands of angels as his witness, was Albert. His ragged clothes were familiar, but the hardness of his gaze was so cold and so  _ not _ Albert that for one blissful second he thought it was a trick, some kind of cruel angel trick. But then something deep within his eyes shifted and he knew, he just knew. “Albie?”

“Who’s  _ Albie _ ?” the figure scoffed. To Race’s horror, he began to change, morphing right before his eyes into one of  _ them: _ a  _ monster.  _ Gold glittery flames outlined him as his faded blue shirt and jeans fell away, burning the memories they held along with them. The white outline grew as Albert went from small enough to stand with his head tucked under Race’s chin to towering over him in mere seconds. An open leather jacket and tailored pants appeared over his now muscular physique. His copper hair, reflecting the flames, grew several inches, hanging around his shoulders in a fiery curtain. A set of matching copper feathered wings fluttered gently, keeping his feet just off the ground as the flames formed a shifting halo above his head. And, much to Race’s dismay, his deep hazel eyes blazed slowly into a putridly electric purple. “My name is Adriel.”

“But-” How could Albert be an angel? He had told him, he had  _ promised him _ that he wasn't. What else had he lied to him about? Had his dream really  _ been real? _ Why didn’t he listen to himself earlier? “Albie-”  _ I thought I could trust you. _

“SILENCE!” Albert’s voice sliced through the air, instantly sealing Race’s lips. “Great Elders,” Albert continued, addressing the ranks of angels crowding the skies. “I have been dreaming of this day for the last fifteen years, when my eldest brother completed his coming of age ceremony by executing this young man’s mother.”

_ What?  _ Albert had a  _ brother _ ? Albert’s  _ brother  _ had  _ killed his mother?  _ And Albert had still had the audacity to comfort him over the fact that his mother had been murdered in front of him when he was related to the damn killer?

“He had posed as her lover for over a year, gradually building her trust until he revealed his true form publically, executing her and making an example for others. I was watching from the back of the ranks and noticed that as he dragged her away there was a young boy, her son, screaming. Immediately, I made myself human, using my powers to protect the young boy, and he survived, despite his proximity to the blast of heavenly fire. I knew that he would live the rest of his life fearing us angels more than the average human, dreading that one day he may meet the same fate as his mother did. It was a cruel plan, but it was all or nothing. And that boy became mine. My project. My chosen one. And that boy is now the man that is here before you today.”

_ NO!  _ Race wanted to scream, to cry, to do something,  _ anything,  _ that would distract him from the empty coldness of Albert’s voice, but the magic prevented him. He was resigned to listen to every painful detail of how Albert had slowly gained his trust for several years, then used his magical charm to trick Race into falling in love with him, creating the illusion of a good life for the two of them while lying about everything: who he was, where he worked, what he did when he wasn’t with Race...it was all too much for him. There was no way that this could be real. It had to all be a dream, a side effect,  _ something.  _ But then-

“I recognize, Great Elders, that my ceremony was supposed to be two nights ago on the rooftop and I apologize for delaying it. You see, once I was already up there with him I decided that I wanted to give him one good night, just a little something to make this next day a little  _ extra  _ painful. I allowed him to drink some of our rose water, getting him drugged enough to let loose, and also terrify him with visions that would make him trust me more. But then he tripped, hitting his head. It was at that moment that a group of angels left a neighboring building as part of a nightly patrol and he began to freak out, so I decided to stray from my plan slightly. I asked him if he trusted me, to which he said he did, before jumping off the roof, taking my true form as we flew, away from the angels that were supposedly ‘chasing us.’ I took him back to my human apartment, drugging him further with more rose water, and when he woke up I told him it had all been a dream and that he was safe with me.”   
  
Magic be damned, tears fought their way out of Race’s eyes and dripped down his face, creating mud out of the dust at his feet. How could Albert,  _ his Albert,  _ have done that? How could he?  _ It makes sense though,  _ the dark corner of his mind whispered,  _ why you were so dazed, the reality of the dream. It was him all along.  _

“And then, this morning, I brought him here, to the pathetic memorial that the rebels set up for everyone executed during the same ceremony as his mother, and I tore his last piece of her directly from his hands. And now, as my brother did to his mother, I will do to him.”

Albert turned his electric eyes onto Race, gliding over to where he stood on the grass. “Come on  _ balimah _ ,” he muttered. “Your turn.”

_ Balimah.  _ Why was that word familiar to him? Albert had called him it on the rooftop, yes, he was sure of it. “What does that mean?” he asked, unable to bring himself to say anything else.

“Scum,” Albert spat as he thunked Race down on the altar. 

The cool marble rushed up to Race’s scorching skin as he stared out into the sea of angels in front of him. Albert’s words rang in his ears as he tried desperately to hang onto something tangible, something real that would pull him out of this nightmare. 

“Great Elders, I offer you this mortal life for my immortality-”

His mother would be appalled if he faced the same fate that she had.  _ Come on Race, think.  _

“-his suffering at my hand will plague him into the next life-”

_ There has to be something to bring him back to himself. _

“-making me worthy to join your eternal ranks-”

_ C’mon, you've known Albert for half your life. Angel or not, some part of that had to be real. _

“-and continue our mission-”

What was it that Albert had told him after he had woken up? 

“-to torture the human race-”

_ Something about not being able to live with himself uhhh- _

“-and one day have them do our bidding-”

_ “You’re all I have and there’s no way I would ever be able to live with myself if I betrayed you like that.”  _ Yes! That was it!

“-I hereby pledge myself to our cause-”

Screw angel Albert,  _ his  _ Albert had confided in him, talked to him about his father, always feeling like he was stuck in his shadow before he ran away. Cried over always feeling as though he was being pushed too hard. And in turn he had listened to Race talk about his mother, and comforted him after every nightmare. He had sworn to protect him. Always.

“-and let the hands of fate decide mine-” 

That could only come from love. And love could not be faked.

“-with this heavenly blast I seal my fa-”

_ “BUT YOU LOVE ME!” _

It took Race a few seconds to realize that it had been him that had spoken. And then a few more to realize that all of the angels were staring at him open mouthed.  _ Oh no. _

He spun around, squinting up at the sky where Albert had been, about to kill him. Instead of his new set gaze though, there was a wave of panic stretched tightly across his face as his limbs flailed. 

Race stood dumbfounded, not comprehending why he wasn’t a pile of incinerated ash, when he noticed it.

Albert’s halo was choking him. 

With a splat he fell onto the top of the altar, clutching uselessly at his halo as he tried to rip it away from his throat. His wings began to flicker, their feathers one by one detaching themselves and floating upwards as he thrashed around.

His mother had been right. Angels  _ could _ have weaknesses.

“Albie, it's okay,” Race soothed, placing his hand on Albert’s leather clad shoulder only to have it transform back into his worn blue shirt under his very fingertips. Long copper strands of hair disappeared back into his scalp. “It’s okay.” 

Albert gasped and his body shrunk back to its normal size. The only evidence of his angel self remaining were his purple eyes, which were fixated on Race.

“I-” Albert choked, still wrestling with the halo. 

“You what, Albie?” Race pulled his hands gently through the tangles in Albert’s hair. This was it, all Albert had to do was fight this and the two of them could go back to their normal lives. No more angels, no more danger. 

Albert’s hazel eyes finally shone through the purple just as he whispered “I love you.”

Race’s heart soared. He knew it. He knew it had been real. 

But before he could say it back, Albert’s body exploded into a cloud of gold. It encircled Race, lifting him up off the altar, spinning him around and around and around and-

“CONGRATULATIONS NEW-BORN ROSTIELLO,” the voices of the angels bounced around his head. “YOU HAVE DEFEATED THE ANGEL ADRIEL, THE FIRST MORTAL TO DO SO IN 10,000 YEARS. AS YOUR REWARD WE HAVE GIVEN YOU HIS IMMORTALITY. WELCOME TO OUR CAUSE.”

It took all of Race’s willpower not to burst into tears when he saw his hands surrounded by the same gold glow Albert’s had been not moments before. 

_ What have I done? _

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> hey guys, thanks for reading! this took absolutely forever to write but im kinda proud of it.
> 
> comments and kudos are always appreciated! to read the rest of my stuff, make a request, or just come yell at me, check out my tumblr -> @suddenly-im-respecsable


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